On Life and Stuff
by Erin Kaye Hashet
Summary: Complete with Chapters 11 and 12 up. Luke and Lorelai have barely moved in together before a crisis enters their lives.
1. Chapter 1: Luke

**Title:** On Life and Stuff

**Author:** Erin Kaye Hashet

**Rating:** PG

**Feedback:**

**Distribution: **Anywhere, just let me know

**Spoilers:** Through "But Not As Cute As Pushkin"

**Summary:** Luke and Lorelai have barely moved in together before a crisis enters their lives.

**Disclaimer:** Wish I owned them, but I don't

**Author's Notes:** This marks my second WIP. It will probably be 12 parts. I welcome feedback, but just to be clear, if you make suggestions, I probably won't take them, simply because I want to stay true to my own vision of where this story's going. Hope you enjoy this!

**On Life and Stuff**

**by Erin Kaye Hashet**

"This isn't life! This is stuff! And it's become more important to you than living!"

-from _American Beauty_

Chapter 1

Luke would never have answered the phone if he'd known what would result from it. It happened one Monday morning as he was getting dressed for work and Lorelai was still lying in bed.

"Unnnnnhh." Half-consciously, Lorelai groaned a syllable that could only have come out of her. "Get that, will you?"

So Luke reached for the phone on the side of their bed. "Hello?"

"Who is this?" Luke was wincing before the voice on the other end of the phone finished her sentence. He'd recognized its sharp, judgmental inflections as belonging to Emily Gilmore.

"Uh . . . uh . . . this is Luke, Mrs. Gilmore," he stammered before he remembered that she'd told him to call her Emily. In the bed, Lorelai's eyes popped wide open.

"Oh, hel_lo_, Luke. How interesting to hear you on the other end of the phone at my daughter's house."

"Oh. Um . . ." Luke was starting to sweat. "Would you like to speak to Lorelai, Mrs. Gilmore?" He could see Lorelai tensing up, clutching the blankets and vehemently shaking her head.

"Why, yes, Luke, I would. Generally when I call this number on a weekday I am indeed calling for Lorelai, seeing as Rory is at school and as far as I have been informed my daughter and granddaughter are the only two people currently living in this house."

_Shit._ "Okay, uh, Mrs. Gilmore, here she is." In the bed, Lorelai balled up her fists and shook them violently, mouthing, "No!"

"Oh, please, Luke, I've told you to call me Emily."

Lorelai cast him a defeated look as she picked up the phone. "Hello, Mother."

Luke continued to get dressed as the conversation progressed, acting as if he wasn't interested in it, but he could hear all of Lorelai's side of it.

"Because I told him to, Mom! He was awake and I wasn't, so I asked him to pick it up!...Yes, Mom, as a matter of fact, he has moved in….Mom, you would have found out eventually. I guess eventually came today….Well, gee, Mom!" Lorelai's tone of voice was rising by then. "I don't know, maybe I didn't tell you so you wouldn't embarrass him like you did when he came for dinner!... Oh, don't play innocent, Mom, you know exactly what you did! You know what? Never mind. I'm not fighting with you about this now. You just tell me why you're calling me long before you know I get up for work….Fine. Find somewhere else….Yeah. Bye."

Luke turned around in surprise when the conversation ended. Angry phone conversations between Lorelai and Emily were hardly something new, but usually they settled into a kind of annoyed tolerance before they were over. Lorelai was rubbing her head as if it ached. "God," she said, still sounding angry.

"What was that about?" Luke asked curiously.

"Well," said Lorelai with a sigh, "apparently my mother wanted to know if she could use the inn for a DAR function, and felt the need to call me _before_ her early appointment today. But then _you _answered the phone, which led to the why-didn't-you-tell-me-Luke-moved-in-with-you barrage of questions, so now apparently she's having her function elsewhere."

"Ah." Luke nodded. "I'm sorry I answered it."

"No, don't be, babe. You didn't know it would be her. We don't have caller ID and you're not psychic. Although…" Lorelai raised her eyebrows. "You did uncannily predict the exact date I'd receive the Go-Go's shirt I ordered off E-Bay."

"That's called common sense, not extrasensory perception."

"Of course, if you are indeed psychic, then you _did_ know it would be my mother and therefore answered the phone on purpose. Which would mean you're secretly trying to kill me and I'm living with a potential murderer!"

"Tell me again why you need coffee," Luke groaned. "See you after work."

Thursday night, however, the phone rang again. This time, Luke was reading the paper, so he didn't hear Lorelai's side of the conversation. He just looked up after Lorelai got off the phone and walked into the room frowning.

"That was my mother," she said.

"She still mad?" Luke asked.

"No, that was the weird thing," said Lorelai. "She was calling to tell me that she wouldn't be able to make Friday night dinner, but we can still go to the pool house with my father. But she never _once_ mentioned the fight we had on Monday. And that is very much unlike her. She's the type to hold things above my head. Hey, if she ever let _go _of all the things she holds over my head, I'd be buried alive under thirty-six years of guilt trips."

"Huh," said Luke. "She mention why she wouldn't make it."

"No," replied Lorelai, still seeming bewildered. "She just said, 'Something came up,' Marcia Brady-style."

"Interesting," said Luke, turning the page in the paper.

"Maybe she has another date with that Simon guy," said Lorelai.

"Maybe," answered Luke absently.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2: Emily

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter 2

When you were as concerned with appearances as Emily Gilmore, you were very often shocked. Seeing Gilda Stone in that hideous outfit at the hospital fundraiser was shocking. Hearing that Muffy Spencer and Jacob Lane were having an affair was shocking. Speculation that DAR funds were being misappropriated was shocking.

And then there were the things in your own life that could shock you. Finding out that your daughter was pregnant at sixteen. Discovering that your daughter had run away from home and taken your granddaughter with her. Hearing that your husband still had lunches with his former fiancée.

All of those paled in comparison to hearing your own name and "ovarian cancer" in the same sentence.

Emily stared at the doctor, unable to believe her ears.

"You can't be serious," she said.

"I'm afraid I am," he said, his voice sympathetic. "You have stage two epithelial ovarian cancer. You can see the growth here." He pointed to a spot on the X-rays.

It was a rare moment when Emily was speechless . "But…but…" She was trying to remember everything she knew about ovarian cancer. A friend of a friend had died from it a few years ago. "The silent killer," Emily had heard it called. "But people _die _from ovarian cancer!" she finally got out.

"Fortunately, Mrs. Gilmore, your prognosis is good," the doctor continued. "Stage two means that the growth has not extended beyond the fallopian tubes, and the tumor is a grade one epithelial ovarian carcinoma, which means it has a lower malignancy potential than most tumors. You were lucky that your physical was scheduled when it was. The doctors were able to detect the tumor much faster than ovarian cancer is normally detected."

These were meant to be comforting words, but they meant nothing to Emily. She was still trying to comprehend how one day her greatest concern could be where Richard was going at night and the next day she could be facing a fatal disease.

Emily found her voice. "No," she said. "There must be some mistake."

The doctor's face was sympathetic but sure. "I'm afraid not, Mrs. Gilmore," he said. "We wouldn't tell you if we weren't absolutely sure."

"But…but this can't be happening to me!" Emily's voice was rising. "I-I'm healthy. I'm active. I run charity dinners. I have a daughter and a granddaughter and…things like this do not _happen_ to me!"

"The fact that you are so healthy and active will be to your advantage, Mrs. Gilmore," replied the doctor. His calmness was beginning to get on Emily's nerves. "It means you'll respond better to the treatment."

"Treatment? What treatment?"

"Well, normally in a situation like this, we would perform a complete hysterectomy. According to our X-rays, that would take care of the tumor you have now, but to be completely safe, we would also do a follow-up round of chemotherapy. We'd begin treatment immediately."

"Immediately?!" Emily stood up, outraged. "I can't start immediately! My daughter and granddaughter are coming over for dinner tomorrow night! I've got dinners to attend and functions to plan and—"

"You have the right to refuse, of course, but I would advise you to start treatment right away, Mrs. Gilmore," said the doctor firmly. "Ovarian cancer progresses rapidly. We can perform your surgery as early as tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" Emily repeated faintly.

"If we want the best chance of beating this cancer, than yes."

Emily was quiet for a long time. Finally, she said, "Excuse me," and went to the bathroom.

Once there, she locked herself in a stall and fell to her knees, crying. She was still in a state of disbelief. She couldn't have cancer. She ran fundraisers for people with cancer—she couldn't be one of her own charity cases!

As scary as it was to face the reality that she could die from this, it scared her even more to think that she was here _alone_. Richard had his own life in the pool house now, with Pennilyn Lott and his barbershop quartet. Lorelai would be glad to be rid of her—no more Friday night dinners, no more criticizing her boyfriend. As much as it had hurt to think that Lorelai hadn't told her about Luke moving in, it hurt even more to know that Lorelai had good reason not to tell her. Her reaction would have been similar to that of Luke's first visit to her house—which, she had to admit, had been rude.

A raw ache settled inside of her when she ran out of tears. She thought for a minute, _I should tell Lorelai I won't be there tomorrow_. She knew from past experience that cell phones weren't allowed in hospitals, but no one could tell in the bathroom.

Lorelai was the only one she called that night. She couldn't bring herself to tell Richard. She was too afraid that he wouldn't care, that her call would only lead to further heartache.

She only called Richard after her hysterectomy had been completed and she lay in bed recovering. She picked up her cell phone and checked the messages, only to find one from Richard.

"Emily? Hello. You weren't at dinner tonight and haven't been home in quite awhile, so I was hoping everything was all right. Please call back."

Emily's shoulders slumped. Her eyes filled with tears, tears of worry and sorrow and the love she still felt so strongly for Richard. And she picked up the phone and dialed.

To be continued…

**Author's Note: **If there's anyone out there who knows more about this disease than me and I have messed up the details of ovarian cancer, my sincerest apologies. My knowledge of the disease comes from various web sites and the experiences of my mom's dear friend (an ovarian cancer survivor). Chapter 3 hopefully coming soon (and these chapters will be shorter than those of "The Good One").


	3. Chapter 3: Richard

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: **Thank you, first of all, for the excellent feedback I've been getting. I want to say that getting the details right is very important to me, and I really appreciate any input people can give me. **jcd1013**, I did go back and re-work some of the doctor's comments. **Professer**, I was going by something I read that said that stage II ovarian cancer has about a 69 cure rate, but if you're a med student you probably know more about this than me. And I'm sure you do need more than an X-ray. I didn't intend to describe the whole process of detecting cancer, but I figured there was probably an X-ray involved somewhere. **Jen**, I could be wrong about this (someone tell me if I am) but I think that in Emily's case a hysterectomy would be considered emergency surgery and they would therefore perform it as soon as possible. If I got anything wrong in this chapter (I really hope I didn't) I apologize, and please let me know.

Chapter 3

Richard wasn't too concerned when Emily's car was gone Thursday night, and still gone Friday morning. He figured she was out on another date—he'd heard the rumors about Simon MacLaine—and had stayed the night. The thought pained him, and angered him as well. How dare she? She was still his wife, and despite Emily's suspicions, he'd never dated anyone else, and his involvement with Pennilyn Lott had never gone beyond the lunches. She had no right to be out flirting with men like a teenager. Who did she think she was?

After mulling over that possibility for awhile, he wondered if perhaps she was back to staying in a hotel. Maybe her maid had quit or taken ill. He knew that Emily couldn't survive a day without some kind of hired help, and if she couldn't find it at home, she'd find it in a hotel.

His concern only came Friday night when Lorelai and Rory came to the pool house and Lorelai said, "So, the appetizers and the entrée both here tonight, Dad?"

Richard looked up, frowning. "Excuse me?"

"Mom called and told me she couldn't make dinner tonight," Lorelai said, taking off her coat. "She didn't say why."

"Is that so?" Richard peered through the pool house window to the house. There were no lights on and seemed to be no sign that anyone was there.

"You have any idea where she is, Dad? Barring that one time a couple of months ago, you and Mom never miss these dinners without telling us why."

Richard let out a short, bitter laugh. "You mother and I do not often discuss our whereabouts with each other as of late."

"Which opens us to infinite possibilities concerning where Emily could in fact be." Lorelai gasped and turned to Rory. "She has a secret life as a spy!"

"She's a real-life Irina Derevko!" Rory chimed in.

"I wish I'd known," Richard murmured. "I would have had something prepared."

"Well, that's okay, Grandpa," said Rory. "Do you have another frozen pizza? You said you'd get some more after we ate out here last time."

Richard managed a smile. "As a matter of fact, I do, Rory."

After Lorelai and Rory left, Richard dialed Emily's cell phone and got her voice mail, where he left a message. And the next day, Emily called him back. Her breathing was labored and nervous, and the idea that she had something to be guilty about—a date, perhaps—crossed Richard's mind again.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner," Emily said, and paused. Her voice broke when she spoke again. "Richard, forgive me for putting this on you now, but...when I saw my doctor, they detected something." She paused. "Richard, they believe I have…ovarian cancer."

Richard did not move. Emily's statement was so completely unexpected that he couldn't process it at first.

"Richard?"

"There must be some mistake," Richard said finally. "You've never been sick a day in your life, Emily. How could—"

"I know, Richard. But…the fact remains, I am in the hospital recovering from a hysterectomy as we speak."

"What?" Richard gasped.

"They performed it yesterday. I'm waiting for test results now." Emily's voice had taken on a dull, emotionless tone.

"But…" Richard tried to collect his thoughts. "What hospital are you in?"

"Hartford Memorial."

"I will be there immediately, Emily," he said, summoning up a firm and sturdy tone. "I'll get there as soon as I can."

When he got to Emily's room, he found her staring vacantly into space. The sight was jarring. She looked empty, more empty than he'd seen her since Lorelai had run away and she'd lain in bed for a month.

He cleared his throat and Emily turned to him. "Emily," he said, his voice breaking.

Emily's eyes misted as they took him in. "Richard," she managed, and at once his arms were around her and her head was buried in his chest. The love that had never truly died seized Richard, choking his throat. How he'd missed holding his wife like this!

"I'm so scared, Richard," she sobbed. "I should have called you earlier, but…"

"Shh…" he soothed. "Don't worry, Emily. I'm here now."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The doctor was smiling when he came in.

"Well, I have some good news, Mrs. Gilmore," he said. "The cancer has not spread to your lymph nodes, which means that the chemotherapy has a greater chance of working."

"But chemo is still necessary?"

"It's your best option at this point," the doctor replied. "We could begin tomorrow."

"So soon?" Emily asked anxiously.

"Ovarian cancer spreads quickly, so it's best to start as soon as possible. What we would do is to insert a catheter into a vein to administer the chemo. You would receive six rounds of chemo, three weeks each. The first round would be administered in the hospital so that we can work out the combination of chemo drugs that's best for you, and the subsequent rounds would be administered on an outpatient basis."

"Three weeks," said Emily faintly. "I'd be hospitalized for three weeks?"

"It would be best. The initial doses will probably be very uncomfortable. You'll most likely have nausea, fatigue…you may become anemic and experience hair loss."

Richard braced himself, expecting a full-on tirade from Emily about how she would _not_ lose her hair, she would _not_ allow it, but it never came. Emily simply had one hand absently clutching her hair as her eyes filled with tears. So Richard launched into the tirade for her.

"Are there not drugs to help her deal with these side effects?" he demanded. "My wife will not be put through unnecessary suffering! She must have the best care available to her. I will not stand for anything less!"

"There are indeed drugs that can help with the anemia and minimize hair loss," replied the doctor, "but there are no guarantees. And I assure you, Mr. Gilmore, your wife is in good hands."

When the doctor left, Richard reached for his wife's hand. "I'll speak to as many people as possible," he said firmly. "We will not settle. You will be treated only by the very best doctors, Emily. You deserve nothing less." He gave her hand a squeeze. "I've missed you, Emily."

Emily smiled through teary eyes. "Please come home, Richard," she said. "Get out of that damn pool house."

"Not today," he said. "I wouldn't let them drag me away from you tonight." He opened his arms and closed them around her again.

After a period of silence, Emily said, "We need to tell Lorelai and Rory. As soon as possible."

"Yes," murmured Richard. He knew he'd have to let go of Emily to call his daughter and granddaughter, but he never wanted to let her go again.

To be continued…

Feedback appreciated as always.


	4. Chapter 4: Lorelai

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter 4

Sunday morning Lorelai slept until eleven. The night before, she and Luke had seen a late movie, and the week she'd had at work had tired her out. They'd had to hire a new waitress after one had quit unexpectedly, Sookie's pregnant-woman hormones were skyrocketing, and Michel, as usual, was no help. When she woke up, she dressed, left the house, and set off for the Stars Hollow Newsstand. The front page of the _Stars Hollow Gazette_ read **TURBINE TO PASS THROUGH STARS HOLLOW**.

"A turbine, huh?" Lorelai said to herself, browsing the article. Apparently, a large turbine was being moved to a power plant in New Hampshire, and only certain streets would hold it because of its weight. Main Street in Stars Hollow had received the dubious honor of being one of the streets the turbine would go down, and a committee was being formed to make sure the advent of the turbine, which would be in a little more than a month, went as smoothly as possible.

"Hey!" snapped Bootsy from his seat. "This ain't a library. You gonna buy that or not?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Yes, Bootsy, of course I am, because the world as we know it will end if I dare to glance at the front-page story before purchasing the paper."

"Oh, you laugh now," Bootsy retorted as she paid for the paper. "You a Taurus?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"'You will receive some unexpected bad news today,'" he read from his copy of the paper.

"Unexpected bad news," repeated Lorelai. "Well, you'll be the first to know then, Bootsy. You do get the news first."

When she left, she went to Luke's, where she sat right at the counter and ordered her coffee. "Hey, did you see this?" she asked, holding the paper up for Luke to see as he poured the coffee.

Luke rolled his eyes. "No, but I've heard about it from, oh, Taylor, Patty, Babette, Kirk, Mrs. Casini, Gypsy…"

"I get the picture," Lorelai cut him off.

"God, this is going to be a disaster," Luke groaned. "This monstrosity of a machine is going to tie up traffic in the whole town, it'll be all we hear about until it comes, they're going to have to have all these committees to make sure it goes well, all in the name of nuclear power that could kill people."

"Maybe this was my unexpected bad news," Lorelai said. "My horoscope says some will come today."

Just then, her cell phone rang. "Or maybe that's it," she said.

Luke pointed to the door. "Out."

"Oh, come on, Luke," she whined. "_You _even have a cell phone now!"

"But I don't use it in here," he said firmly. "And don't even think about playing the girlfriend card. _Out_."

Lorelai pouted, then scurried out the door to take the call. "Hello?"

"Lorelai?"

"Dad! Hi!"

"I've been trying to reach you since last night," said Richard.

"Really?" said Lorelai. "I didn't see any messages."

"I didn't leave one." Richard's breathing was hard and audible. "I thought it would be best to make sure I got to talk to you."

Lorelai frowned. "Dad, is something wrong?"

Richard let out a long sigh. Finally, he said, "Lorelai, your mother is sick."

Lorelai blinked. "Sick? What do you mean?"

"She's in the hospital, Lorelai."

"Wha—" It took her a minute to formulate words. "Details, Dad! What's wrong?"

"She has…ovarian cancer, Lorelai."

Lorelai did not move.

"Lorelai?"

"How bad is it, Dad?" she asked in a voice she barely recognized. "Please tell me."

"They say it's stage two, that they caught it early and that if all goes well, she'll only need one dose of chemotherapy…"

"Chemotherapy," Lorelai echoed, unable to believe that she was using that word in connection with her mother.

"She started today."

"What…" Lorelai put a hand to her forehead and tried to think. "What hospital is she in?"

"Hartford Memorial."

Lorelai was quiet for a long time. Finally she said, "Is she going to die, Dad?"

Richard let out a long sigh. "I truly don't know, Lorelai."

"I…I…" Lorelai tried her best to put a sentence together. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Dad."

She stood there motionless—she had no idea for how long. She was numb, and it seemed as though she wasn't breathing. Then, slowly, her breath began to come back, loudly, harshly. Her breath began to quicken as the implications of the phone call set in. It got faster and faster and her heart began to speed up—

And suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?" asked Luke.

She shook her head and dissolved into tears.

Luke wrapped his arm around her. "Okay," he said firmly. "Come on."

He led her to the bridge over the lake where no one could overhear them. "Okay, what's wrong?" he asked gently.

"My…" Lorelai wiped her eyes. "My mother. She's sick, Luke. She has ovarian cancer, and…oh, my God, it sounds so weird to say that. I can't remember my mother ever having the _flu_, and now she's in the hospital starting chemotherapy? Out of _nowhere_? I'm just here thinking that my worst problem in upcoming months is going to be a fricking _turbine_, and then all of a sudden, 'Hey, Lorelai, your mother's been stricken with a possibly fatal disease'?" Her eyes welled up again as she spoke.

Luke looked stunned, and even amid her own pain, she felt a pang for him. Both his parents had died of cancer, and she knew this must be bringing back some bad memories for him. She fell into his arms as he opened them. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"My God, Luke," she sniffled. "I…I have nothing to say about this. You know me. I laugh at inappropriate moments. I make bets on how long it'll take women in stilettos to get caught a sidewalk crack. I…I negotiated at Fran Weston's funeral, for God's sake! And now…I think I've finally gotten to the point where humor won't help me at all, where I…I can't find any way to make this situation seem better. And Luke? That scares me just as much as anything else."

Luke held her even closer and wordlessly stroked the back of her head.

"God, is this like my punishment for being a horrible daughter? I never did what my mother told me, I ran away after I had Rory, I avoided my mother at all costs…and so now I have to face up to all of that when my mother has cancer?"

"You are not," said Luke firmly, "a horrible daughter. You are not a horrible anything. Except maybe a cook."

Lorelai managed a little smile, then stepped back and looked at Luke. "I need to see her. As soon as possible."

Luke nodded. "Of course. I'll just tell Lane and Caesar that we're leaving."

"Thank you, Luke." Lorelai bit her lip. "And I'll need to tell Rory."

To be continued…

**Author's note: **Just so you know, while there's some serious subject matter here, the whole story's not going to be dramatic and depressing. More serious stuff is coming in Chapter 5, but it won't always be like that.


	5. Chapter 5: Rory

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter 5

"Margery Kempe," said Rory.

"Oh," said Marty, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember. "She was the one who talked in the third person, right? She kept calling herself 'this creature,' like she was medieval Bob Dole or something."

Rory laughed, rocking back and forth on her bedroom floor. "That's so true," she said. "Never thought I'd live to hear the day when I'd hear a medieval mystic compared to a 90's presidential candidate." She examined her notes. "Hmm . . . the Beguines."

"The Beguines . . . " Marty thought for a minute, then said, in a completely flat voice, "The nuns who considered Jesus their savior _and _their boyfriend."

Rory laughed again, this time so hard she fell over on the rug.

It was Sunday and they were studying for a test in their medieval lit class. Rory was enjoying herself. All through high school, she'd always studied alone, but in college she'd discovered that studying in a group could be beneficial—and fun, if it was with someone like Marty. She hadn't had a lot of guy friends in high school, so it was nice to have Marty around now. He was a guy friend whom she could completely be herself around. She couldn't say that about too many people.

Just then, Rory's cell phone rang. "Oh, hold on, let me take this," she said, standing up and answering it. "Hello?"

"Hey, kid," came her mother's voice softly. "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine, Mom," she said, concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Well, not really. No." Lorelai's breath was loud and coming out in short little puffs. "I . . . I've got some bad news for you."

Rory's brow furrowed. "What bad news?"

"It's your grandmother. She, um . . . she has cancer, honey. Ovarian cancer. She's in Hartford Memorial right now starting chemo."

Rory stood still, silent.

"What?" she said finally, trying to grasp the magnitude of what her mother had just said. "How . . . how can that be? She's . . . she's never sick! She's _Grandma_!"

"I know, babe. But she's sick now."

"Is she . . . how bad is it?"

"Grandpa said it's stage two, which doesn't sound too bad."

"But . . . but it could be, right? It could be . . ."

"Honey. I've told you all I know, okay? I just found out myself. Luke and I are on our way up to see her."

"I'll come, too! I want to see her!" Rory's voice was rising and Marty was looking at her in concern.

"Do you want us to come pick you up? We're going now and . . . "

"No . . . no. You'd have to go to New Haven and then Hartford. I'll just meet you there."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said faintly.

"Okay. We'll see you then."

Rory's eyes began to water as soon as she hung up. Marty frowned. "Rory? Rory, are you okay?"

She shook her head. "My grandmother's in the hospital!"

Marty looked shocked. "Oh, no! Is . . . is she okay?"

"I don't know!" she sobbed. "She has ovarian cancer. I just found out now!"

Marty reached for a tissue and handed it to her. "Oh, no," he repeated helplessly, his voice worried. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," Rory sniffled as she took the tissue from him. "God, I . . . I'm sorry, Marty, but I have to go. My mother and her boyfriend are going to Hartford to see her, and I'm going, too."

"Are you okay to drive?" Marty asked. "I could take you, you know . . . you shouldn't be driving when you're this upset."

"Thank you," she said, wiping her eyes, "but you need to study. I couldn't ask you to do that."

"At least let me give you money so you can take the train!" Marty said, reaching for his wallet.

"Oh, no!" she said. "Marty, that's really sweet of you, but I've got money. I can't take yours. You . . . you stay here with Margery and the Beguines."

"Okay," said Marty softly. He lay a hand on her shoulder. "You call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Marty." Rory stepped forward and hugged him. "I'll let you know if I'll be back tonight."

"Hey, what's going on?" She heard Paris's sharp, abrasive voice coming through as Paris came out of her bedroom. "Is there a fire out here? A flood? A small earthquake? I'd love to know what could possibly be so important as to cause a ruckus loud enough to distract me from my biology homework!"

"My grandmother has cancer!" The words flew out of Rory's mouth before she even realized it.

Paris's face changed. "Oh, God. Oh, Rory . . . I'm so sorry, I . . . "

"That's okay," Rory mumbled, going for her coat. "You didn't know."

Paris still looked troubled. "But I . . . my grandmother had cancer, too. I should have . . . "

"It's okay, Paris," Rory cut her off. "I need to go now."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

She got off the train in Hartford and headed straight for the hospital. Inside Emily's room, she found Lorelai, Luke, and Richard gathered around Emily's bed.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hey . . ." Lorelai turned around and hugged her.

"How's she doing?" Rory asked anxiously.

"Sleeping. Got her first chemo treatment today. She's resting now."

They all stood there in silence as Emily slept, watching. Rory suddenly felt very young, and scared. But she was too old to be running to her mommy. Instead, she stood there and tried to swallow the large lump that was growing in her throat.

To be continued…

**Author's Note: **Okay, I know we've had four straight chapters of people finding out. Something different is coming in the next chapter, and in all subsequent ones. See you there.


	6. Chapter 6: Emily

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter 6

Emily lay in her hospital bed, alone, pretending to watch some ridiculous talk show. She'd been in the hospital for two weeks, and it had been miserable. She'd thrown up for hours at first, and at one point she'd cried out, not really meaning it, "I'm not having any more of this! I don't care if I die right here right now, I'm _not _going through with this anymore!"

Since then, though, they'd worked out the dosages of her chemo drugs, and now she could tolerate them better. Her worst problems now were not physical, but emotional.

Emily was thinking of all the friends she'd made over the years: the ones she'd chaired fundraisers with, the ones in the DAR with her, the ones at the country club. Where were they now? She had no idea. None of them had visited her—not one. She'd received get-well cards from a few of them—one from her whole DAR chapter—and even that was big of her friends. Most of them just gave Richard their wishes for a speedy recovery to pass on to Emily.

She couldn't say it didn't hurt, her friends' indifference—in fact, it had made her cry—but at the same time, she couldn't say it surprised her. Those women only cared about cancer when it was the reason for a charity ball. Emily's illness hit a little too close to home for them. They didn't want to think about it, because it reminded them that they weren't invincible, that there were, in fact, problems that some Botox and a good glass of champagne couldn't solve.

Why, Emily wondered, had she spent so much of her life trying to impress these people, trying to win their favor? It was an impossible task. Those women, Emily realized painfully, were just like her. And Emily herself always tried to find fault with her fellow corporate wives—they'd done this or that wrong with the parties they'd thrown, or the dresses they were wearing were hideous—because it let her think that she did things better. Impressing them was like trying to impress her mother-in-law.

_I might be dying_, Emily realized. _And what have I done with my life? _

Right then, a head popped around Emily's door. "Hi, Mom."

Emily smiled. "Hello, Lorelai." To her credit, Lorelai had taken to visiting her quite frequently lately, and none of the visits had been anything like Friday night dinners. Lorelai seemed as if she was there not because she felt she had to be, but because she _wanted_ to.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fairly well, thank you. This has been one of my better days," she replied.

Lorelai smiled sadly. "Good. Now, how are you _feeling?_"

Emily blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know what I mean, Mom."

Emily sighed. She was quiet for a long time. "I'm wondering about some of the choices I've made in my life," she said finally. "Some of the things that I…considered important that I am now rethinking." She turned her head toward Lorelai. "How do you do it, Lorelai?"

Lorelai looked blank. "Do what, Mom? Because, you know, my charm cannot be taught."

In spite of herself, Emily smiled. But she quickly became serious again. "How can you be so…utterly unconcerned with what other people think?"

Lorelai did a double take. "Excuse me?"

"I mean that as a compliment, Lorelai. I mean, how…" Emily struggled to find words. "How did you learn to wake up every day and live only for yourself and for the people you care about?"

Lorelai raised her eyebrows. "Wow. What a question."

"I'm serious, though." Emily fixed her eyes on her daughter. "I never learned it myself and I certainly didn't teach you. And yet somehow, you…you only seem to care about what matters."

Lorelai let out a little laugh. "Well, I wouldn't say that. I've been known to care an inappropriate amount about getting to Luke's in time to get the cherry Danishes straight out of the oven, and somehow I don't think that matters in the grand scheme of things." Lorelai quickly became serious, though. "Honestly, Mom, I think a lot of that came with the getting pregnant at sixteen thing. I couldn't worry about what people were saying about me because I had too many more important things to think about, and once Rory was born, she was what mattered most."

"I suppose that could be a factor," Emily sighed, thinking. Maybe everything had just come too easily to her—money, a husband, positions on various social committees. Since for most of her life she hadn't had anything big to worry about, it gave her room to worry too much about the small things. But perhaps she'd worried so much about those little things that she'd lost what really mattered to her—her daughter and granddaughter when Lorelai had run away, and her husband in recent months.

"How's everything at the inn?" Emily asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Lorelai shrugged. "Pretty well. Occupancy's going up and we think we'll be able to bring back lunch soon. Of course, the timing's pretty bad because Sookie's going to have to take maternity leave pretty soon."

"How is she doing?" Emily asked.

"Good. Manic, of course, but that's nothing unusual."

After Lorelai left, Emily lay there, thinking some more. Lorelai, she thought, could be proud of what she'd done with her life. For years, Emily had condemned her for running away from a comfortably well-off life to live in a _shed_ at a hotel in some hick town. But in the end, Emily thought, hadn't it all worked out for her? Lorelai had raised a lovely and intelligent daughter and not only worked her way up to becoming the manager of an inn, but successfully opened her own inn.

But more importantly, Lorelai was _happy_. Emily often thought that the reasons she'd tried to convince Lorelai to marry Christopher or other young men of similar backgrounds wasn't so much because she thought it would be good for Lorelai as it was a justification of the path Emily had taken. Her whole life, Emily had been convinced that she had followed the right path, the only path: college, marriage to an eligible man, motherhood. But while Lorelai's life right now had none of the material wealth that she'd grown up with, she and Rory had the relationship that Emily could never seem to achieve with Lorelai.

What did Emily have to show for all her years of taking the right path? A life of cocktail parties that was rapidly becoming obsolete, a bunch of "friends" who couldn't be troubled to visit her in the hospital, a daughter whom she was only now getting to know, and a husband who couldn't realize he loved her until she was stricken with a possibly fatal disease.

As if on cue, Richard walked in the door then. "Hello, Emily," he said, walking over to her and kissing her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I have been."

"Good, good," he said, settling into a chair.

"How was work?" she asked.

"Ah, well." Richard shrugged. "Can't say I enjoy it the way I used to," he said, sounding sad. "Going back to work at that company was all that I expected it to be—dull and unsatisfying."

"Then why did you do it?" Emily asked softly.

"Emily, you remember," he replied, affecting patience. "It was either that or be sued. And lose everything!"

"Yes, Richard, I remember!" she replied, her voice rising. "How could I forget? That was when I decided to move into the hotel!"

Richard frowned. "Yes…" he said slowly. "It was."

Emily sighed. "Richard," she said, "our other problems haven't magically disappeared because I have cancer. That day, when Lorelai talked to you about what you were doing to Jason? That was just the last straw for me."

"But _why_?" Richard didn't look angry, just very interested.

"Because," Emily said, starting to remember the outrage she'd felt, "I couldn't believe you'd not only hurt Jason, and not only go back to a company that had treated you horribly, but risk _alienating _your _daughter_, Richard. After we'd gone through years of heartache only to get her back!"

"I went back to the company," Richard retorted, now starting to sound a bit angrier, "because it was the _right thing to do for our family_. Do you think I would have risked losing everything we had when there was something I could do about it?"

"But at what cost, Richard? What cost?" she cried. "You'd rather lose your only daughter and granddaughter than lose all your precious _stuff_?"

Richard looked stricken. "No," he said, a bit softer, "no, of course not."

"Doesn't look that way to me," she said bitterly. "Although, for being so attached to your money, you certainly didn't notice when I spent so much on you that day at the mall." She turned around and faced the wall.

Richard placed a hand on her shoulder. "Emily," he said, and she jerked away. "Emily, listen to me," he said firmly. "I…you're right, Emily."

She turned around. "What?"

"I haven't felt right being at that company since I got there," he said softly. "I hate it. I hate the same things I've always hated about it a million times more. I think…I do believe it is time for me to retire."

"But you hated retirement!" she said. "You couldn't deal with it, so you started your own new company. Remember?"

"That was then, this is now," he said. "I…I couldn't handle it then. I couldn't imagine who I was without work. But now…now I think there are more important things I've been neglecting."

Emily sighed, and her eyes welled up with tears. "I love you, Richard," she said, and fell into his arms as he whispered to her that he loved her, too.

Emily felt something unfamiliar as she pulled away. She noticed something on her pillow, and her heart jumped into her throat as she realized what it was.

"My God, Richard," she said in disbelief. "It's happened. I'm losing my hair."

Richard blinked. "Oh…oh, my…"

"I'm losing my hair!" Before she realized it, Emily began to laugh. "I'm losing my hair! Look at this, Richard! My hair is falling out!" Emily laughed more without really realizing why. _This isn't funny_, she tried to tell herself. _This really isn't funny at all_.

And yet, somehow, it really was. Now, with the possibility of death looming before her, hair loss seemed like the funniest thing in the world in comparison.

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7: Lorelai

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter 7

Emily's first round of chemo was almost over. She'd started wearing a scarf over her head to hide the hair loss, and it was jarring for Lorelai to see. She'd never seen her mother, who had always been such a strong, commanding presence, look so pale and fragile before. It frightened her as much as it made her sad. Lorelai often wondered, guiltily, why it was that she was coming to the hospital so much. Was it just out of love? Or was it out of guilt, and fear, and desire to know her mother when no one knew for sure if Emily would survive this? Emily didn't seem to care. She just seemed happy to have Lorelai there with her so often.

"I'll be going home soon," Emily said to her one day. "I suppose I'll have to get a wig. At least then I can _pretend_ I still have hair."

"I'm sure we could get one that matched your real hair," said Lorelai. She paused, thinking. "Mom, why don't I take you to get a wig?" she said.

Emily blinked. "You'd _take _me?"

"Why not?" Lorelai asked. "You need someone to go with you. This is your hair we're talking about here. You could use a second opinion. Anyway, there's a wig store right by that mall Rory and I saw you at before. We can get the wig, and then we'll go get lunch, maybe do a little shopping. What do you say?"

Emily smiled the small but genuine smile she rarely used for anything Lorelai said or did. "Well," she said, "all right. I'll meet you there at eleven on Saturday."

So that Saturday, Lorelai met Emily at the wig store by the mall. It was the first time she'd seen Emily out of the hospital since her diagnosis, and it was amazing how much Emily had managed to look like her old self. She was wearing pressed pants and a tailored blouse, and her makeup was flawless. Even the scarf on her head matched her outfit perfectly, and it was the only indication that Emily was sick.

"You're late," Emily said sharply when Lorelai met her.

"No, I'm not," she protested.

"You said we'd meet at eleven. My watch says eleven-oh-five."

Lorelai glanced at her watch. "And…mine says eleven, Mom," she said, fudging a bit, since it actually said eleven-oh-two."

"Well, then, I suggest you set your watch to the proper time. Five minutes late is still late, Lorelai, and keeping somebody waiting is rude."

In spite of herself, Lorelai smiled. Before, it had been difficult to imagine a day where she would be happy to hear Emily incessantly criticize her, but now it was almost a relief. It had been strange not to hear Emily sound like her usual self when she was in the hospital, and Emily's words made her feel more normal.

"What are you smiling for?" demanded Emily. "This is serious!"

Lorelai quickly sobered herself. "Yes, yes, Mom, it is. Now, come on, let's go in!"

The shop was small, but filled with all sorts of wigs. No one was in it but a fortyish woman with shoulder-length hair and an unsmiling expression. "Hello," she said to Emily and Lorelai as they entered the shop. She looked Emily up and down critically. "May I be of assistance? I assume you're the one wanting to buy a wig."

Lorelai bristled. Her mother had obviously wanted to look nice when going out in public, and here was this woman acting as if Emily looked like a bald freak. Lorelai was just about to jump to her mother's defense, but Emily beat her to it. "Well, I don't see any other bald chemotherapy patients in this store, so what you lack in sensitivity you clearly make up for in eyesight. I am _indeed _the one wanting to buy a wig, and since I know more about my own hair than you pretend to, I don't believe I will be requiring any assistance."

Lorelai stifled a giggle as the woman stiffened. "Very well," she said coldly, and went into the storeroom.

Lorelai gave her mother an approving grin as soon as the woman was out of earshot. "Way to go, Mom," she said. "And you wonder where I get it from."

Emily gave a small smile, but she seemed a bit unsettled. "Let's go look at wigs before that horrible woman can tell me how hideous I am."

"Oh, look at this!" exclaimed Lorelai, picking up a curly red-and-blue wig. "You could be Bozo the Clown, Mom!" Lorelai picked the wig up and put it on her own head.

"Oh, my," Emily chuckled.

"Or look!" Lorelai picked up two more wigs. "You could be Sonny," she said, holding up a short one, "or Cher!" She held up a long, dark one.

Emily laughed again. "Are there any more appropriate for everyday wear than for a costume party?"

"Hmm. Well, looks like there are some over on this wall." Lorelai picked up another wig. "You ever wanted to be a blonde, Mom? Because this is your chance."

"A tempting offer, but I think I'll pass."

"Okay, then. Hey." Lorelai picked up another wig. "This wig looks almost like your real hair, Mom. And it's made with genuine human hair."

"Let me see that." Emily removed her scarf and placed the wig on her head. She studied herself in a mirror. It wasn't a perfect match, Lorelai thought, but it looked enough like Emily's real hair to be convincing.

Abruptly, Emily took the wig off her head. "I suppose this is it, then." She tied the scarf back on her head and straightened herself up. She swallowed hard, and Lorelai thought she could see a hint of tears in her mother's eyes. "I should go pay for it."

Lorelai frowned. "You okay, Mom?"

"Oh, of course I'm okay, Lorelai. I'm as okay as a bald sixty-one-year old woman with ovarian cancer can reasonably expect to be!" Emily's voice rose as she spoke until she was nearly shouting.

After Emily had paid for the wig, in stony silence, Lorelai tried cautiously to talk to her again. "You, uh . . . want to go . . ."

"I don't want to go anywhere but home!" Emily's voice was sharp and the tears were unmistakable this time.

Stunned, Lorelai took a step toward her. "Mom…"

"Get away from me! I _said _I wanted to go home!"

Lorelai blinked. "Okay," she said, gently. "Call me if want to talk."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"I feel awful," Lorelai told Luke at home, cracking open a can of beer. "Here I am, cracking jokes and trying to make this at least a little bit enjoyable for her, and I don't even see how much this is _killing _her. I mean, I think it may actually have been worse that she found a wig that looked so much like her old hair, because she just looked at herself in the mirror and knew that…" Lorelai searched for words. "That the fact that she _looked_ fine was just hiding the knowledge that she's really, really sick."

Luke was quiet for a second. Then he said, unexpectedly, "My father looked like a skeleton at Liz's graduation."

Lorelai looked up, surprised.

"He'd gotten really thin by then," Luke went on, not looking at her. "And he'd lost his hair. Everyone was staring at him, but he didn't even notice. He was just smiling, watching Liz walk across the stage."

Luke rarely opened up like this. Although she was always glad to hear more about his parents and his childhood, Lorelai knew that discussing his parents caused him pain. "Wow," she said simply.

"But he had his moments," Luke went on. "Little things upset him. I brought him a grilled cheese sandwich once, and he told me he'd wanted tuna fish, and when I told him he'd said grilled cheese, he threw it across the room and yelled at me." He shrugged. "It takes a toll on people. Cancer. All kinds of things were going through his mind. The frustration's bound to come out somewhere."

"I guess," murmured Lorelai.

Just then the phone rang, and Lorelai answered it. "Hello?"

"Lorelai. Hello."

"Mom?"

"Lorelai, I want to…apologize."

Lorelai tried to remember the last time she'd heard those words come out of her mother's mouth, and failed. "Oh…really?" she managed.

"You were kind enough to take me shopping, and I repaid you by getting angry for no reason."

"Oh…Mom!" she said. "Don't be sorry. You're going through a lot. You're allowed a blow-up now and then. You deserve that at least."

"But you didn't," said Emily, and paused. "I'd…I'd like to make it up to you, Lorelai."

"Oh…Mom! You don't have to…"

"I insist," said Emily. "We missed out on our day together, and I owe you that at least."

"Well…all right," said Lorelai. "You want to hit up the mall again?"

"Perhaps," said Emily. "Or…" she paused again. "I was wondering if I might spend the day in your town," she said. "I realized I haven't spent nearly enough time there."

Lorelai was surprised. "Okay, then," she said. "When would you like to come?"

"Well, is there any special day that would be good? I know that your town has a lot of special holidays and such."

Lorelai glanced at the _Stars Hollow Gazette_. The headline read, "**PLANS IN MOTION FOR TURBINE VISIT**."

Lorelai smiled. "Actually, Mom, there is a day coming up pretty soon."

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8: Luke

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

(Basically, the characters aren't mine, but the turbine story, unfortunately, is 100 true.)

Chapter 8

The day of the turbine was a Saturday, and Luke's Diner was busier than usual. Luke kept catching streams of conversation all day: Taylor fretting with Patty about how the turbine might cause damage to the streets after all, Kirk citing statistics about nuclear power, people planning where they could set up their chairs.

_Chairs?_ Luke thought. _God Almighty, it's not a parade!_

The day of the turbine was also, however, the day that Emily Gilmore spent in Stars Hollow. The night before, she had driven to Stars Hollow and stayed in Rory's room, and Lorelai and Rory were taking her around Stars Hollow now.

Luke looked up and saw the Gilmores headed into the diner, accompanied by many shopping bags. "Enjoy your day?" he asked them as he came over to their table.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Emily look so happy. "Oh, it was wonderful!" she said. "I got to see the whole town and do some shopping, too!"

Lorelai rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "She actually bought something at Le Chat Club," she said. "I think she may actually be the first ever to do so. Of all the people I thought would actually buy something there, she was probably second-to-last on my list after Marilyn Manson."

"Oh, stop. I got a perfectly lovely little picture frame that I'm sure I can use somewhere. Anyway, Lorelai, why don't you order?"

"Fine, then. Double bacon cheeseburger with extra fries."

"I'll have the same," piped up Rory.

Emily consulted the menu. "Well," she said, pursing her lips, "I guess I'll give that a try, too."

Lorelai and Rory stared at her.

"Grandma, did you say you're getting a double bacon cheeseburger?" Rory asked in disbelief.

"Please don't cut this one with a knife and fork," warned Lorelai. "That might fly in the mall food court, but you do it here? They'll run you out of town."

"I think I'll manage," Emily replied in a dignified tone.

"Three double bacon cheeseburgers and fries coming up, then," said Luke, and headed toward the kitchen.

Later, after he'd brought them the food, he stopped by the table. "How's everyone enjoying their burgers?" he asked.

Emily daintily patted her mouth with a napkin. "It was wonderful, thank you," she said.

"Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied with a nervous smile.

All of a sudden, Lorelai spit out her coffee. "Hey!" she cried.

"What?" asked Rory.

"Taylor's moving our chairs! What does he think he's…" With that she got up and ran out of the diner.

"I'll come and distract him!" Rory volunteered, running out after her.

That left Luke alone with Emily. "So, Luke," she began, "have you sold your old place?"

She sounded conversational and non-judgmental, but her voice still put Luke on edge. "No." He cleared his throat. "I, uh, I actually used to live in the apartment above this building, and I own the building, so, uh…it's still mine, just all my stuff's moved to Lorelai's. Well, and I mean, of course, I've moved with it, but…just, you know, stuff can't move…by itself." His face was red by the time he finished.

Emily smiled at him, looking amused—not condescending or judgmental, just amused. "So what have you done with the apartment in the meantime?"

"Well, uh," Luke started, trying to collect himself, "I still use it as my office. I did even when I lived there. And it's always open if, you know, someone should need a place to stay. Like if my nephew's visiting and his mother's away or something."

Emily nodded slowly, looking as if she was thinking. "I'd like to see your old place," she said, looking straight at him. "If that's possible."

Luke didn't know what to say. Why would she ever want to see his apartment? To make sure he'd really moved in? He had, of course. It wasn't like with Nicole, where he slept at her apartment once a week if even. Why else would Emily want to see it? To mock the tiny space he'd lived in?

"Well, um…" Luke glanced around the diner. It was still crowded, but manageable. Caesar could handle it for the time being. Outside the window, Lorelai and Rory were still arguing with Taylor. "I could, uh…show you it now, quickly, if you'd like."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "All right, then," she said, rising from the table.

When they were upstairs, Emily studied the writing on the door carefully. "This says 'Williams Hardware Office,'" she said.

"Yeah," said Luke, unlocking the door. "Did you see the sign outside? This, uh…this was my dad's hardware store, and I turned it into a diner after he died. This was his office."

They stepped inside. "So you lived in your father's old office," Emily said.

"Yes…" Luke replied slowly, unsure of what else to say.

There was a long silence as Emily looked around the room, examining his small kitchen, the unused bed in the corner, his father's books lined up on the shelves.

"There's not much space up here," Emily commented, but the comment didn't seem malicious, just factual.

"No." Luke cleared his throat. "It, uh, it was an office. It wasn't meant to be lived in."

"My." Emily continued to glance around the room. "You don't seem to have much clutter up here," she said. "That's a very good thing. I've…I've often felt I own far too much that I don't need." Her eyes continued to drift, and landed on the books. "You like to read?"

Luke shrugged. "Well…sometimes. Those books are mainly my dad's."

Emily gave him a small, very sad smile. "How very nice," she said, completely sincerely. "To remember him so…completely."

They stood there in silence for a moment. Then the silence was broken.

"Hey! Luke? Mom? You up here?"

Luke blinked. "Yes," he called. "Yes, we are!"

Lorelai and Rory appeared in the doorway. "Taylor tried to tell us our chairs were too close to the road," Lorelai said. "I told him that we'd discussed the exact distance of the turbine from the sidewalk at the town meeting and that it would be nowhere near us, but he said that we could easily be hit in the eyes with stray sand and dust. I told him we'd take the risk." Lorelai suddenly seemed to realize where they were. "What are you guys doing up here?"

Emily cleared her throat. "I wanted to see what Luke's old apartment looked like," she said. "He was showing me."

"Oh." Lorelai looked a bit confused.

"Well," said Emily. "Thank you, Luke. Now, come on. There's still more of the town I'd like to see before the turbine comes."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When the turbine did come, it was almost sunset, and the diner was busier than ever. A group of townspeople, including Kirk and Miss Patty, had decided to have a turbine pre-party. "Hey," said Kirk, "don't you have anything turbine-themed?"

Luke stared at him. "What, like a burger shaped like a turbine? Sandwiches that cause nuclear explosions? Alphabet soup where the only letters spell out STUPID?"

"Oh, come on, Luke," put in Miss Patty from the table. "Live a little. Enjoy this opportunity."

Just then, the sound of Taylor with a bullhorn came from outside. "The turbine procession will come down the road in five minutes. I repeat, the turbine procession will come down the road in five minutes."

"We're out," announced Kirk, and the turbine party re-located.

Lorelai, Rory, and Emily were sitting on the curb outside the diner. Luke was cleaning tabletops when he heard a knock on the window. He looked up and saw Lorelai.

"Come outside," she mouthed.

He shook his head and mouthed back, "No! Not now."

She pouted and mouthed, "Come on, Luke. _Please?_"

He sighed and made his way outside.

Lorelai grinned at him. "This is kind of exciting," she said.

"If by exciting you mean certifiably insane," he grumbled.

"Attention," came the bullhorn, "the procession is beginning. Those of you seated too close to the street, I suggest you move now."

Lorelai rolled her eyes as cameras began snapping…only to have people realize that it wasn't a turbine, just a police car first.

"Oh, come on," groaned Babette next to them.

First came the police car. Then another one, from another town. Then a fire engine. Then a tree truck. Then…

A massive turbine on a flatbed truck that took up nearly the entire street. Luke had to admit, it was an impressive sight. All up and down the street, cameras were snapping. He glanced at Emily and noticed that she was snapping a few pictures of her own.

When the turbine had passed, Emily looked up at them. "Well," she said with a smile, "that was fun, now, wasn't it?"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"My mother seemed to be having fun today, don't you think?" Lorelai asked him at home that night.

"Stars Hollow is getting to be like a cult," Luke groaned. "They're brainwashing outsiders."

"Maybe we'll see her at the festival to celebrate the anniversary of the new bridge." Lorelai paused. "Hey, when she went up to your apartment," she said, "what was that about?"

Luke shrugged. All day, he'd been musing that very question. "She wanted to see it," he said. "She was talking about how small it was, and how she thought she had too many possessions she didn't need.

Lorelai stared at him. "Are you kidding me?" she said in disbelief. "I thought she'd given up on talking to you like that!"

"It wasn't like that, though," Luke said thoughtfully. "She didn't sound like she did that day at dinner. She sounded like she meant it. She sounded…sad."

Lorelai's brow furrowed. "Wow," she said simply.

Luke was quiet for a long time. "You know, when my dad was diagnosed with cancer," he said, not quite looking at Lorelai, "one day, he just suddenly asked me what my favorite color was." He looked up. "I told him blue, and he just kind of shook his head and said, 'All these years I've been working in this store, and I never knew what your favorite color was.'"

Lorelai bit her lip. "My mother doesn't know what my favorite color is," she said softly.

They were silent for a minute, contemplating this.

Luke could never talk about his father without feeling a pang. He'd told Lorelai once that she had with Rory what he had with his dad, and it had been a strange comparison. Outwardly, the bubbly, caffeine-addicted, talkative musings of the Gilmores bore no resemblance to the laconic and grief-stricken relationship he'd had with his father. But in essence, they weren't much different. At Rory's graduation, Rory had said in her speech how much she owed to her mom, and Luke had teared up, thinking of how he could have said some variation on those words to his father. Everything he knew he had learned from his father—how to fix things, how to put family first, how to treat others, how to value no one's opinion above his own. His father had done everything from building him a skating rink to taking him fishing to ensuring that while Luke and Liz would never fully recover from the pain of their mother's death, they would never feel that their surviving parent wasn't there for them.

What was worse, Luke wondered, losing a parent whom you loved and were close to and who you knew was proud of you, or losing a parent whom you loved but with whom your relationship was complicated and full of tension?

Lorelai moved toward him on the couch. "Luke?" she said softly.

"Yeah?"

She leaned forward and kissed him. "I love you."

She had never said that before. Neither had he. He stared at her for a moment, unable to think.

Lorelai smiled. "It's time I start saying everything I've wanted to say."

He felt himself flooding with love, and after he kissed her back, he said it, too.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The next day, Luke decided to say something he'd never said to someone else.

"How's it going with you?" he said into the phone.

"Can't complain," replied Jess.

"Still taking that GED class?" Luke asked.

Jess gave a short laugh. "Yep, sure am."

Luke could detect a certain tone in Jess's voice. "Something you want to tell me?" he asked curiously.

"Well…" Jess sucked in his breath, and even over the phone Luke could tell that he was smiling. "I met someone."

"Really!" Luke said. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Leanne." Jess sounded happier than Luke had heard him in awhile. "She's in my class with me. She's…she's great."

Luke had never heard Jess talk about any girl that way, even Rory. "Well. That's great. I'm…I'm proud of you, Jess." His heart was beating fast. He'd never told Jess this, even though he'd often felt it.

"Aww." Jess's tone was gently mocking. "Getting all touchy-feely on me here?"

"I should have said that a long time ago." Luke took a deep breath. "I love you, Jess."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "I know." He could tell Jess was smiling. "I love you too."

Luke felt his heart swell. "You take care," he said.

He was smiling when he got off the phone and went into the kitchen to get something to eat. He'd barely gotten there when the phone rang. He heard Lorelai pick it up.

"Hello?" she said. "Oh, hi!...What's wrong?..._WHAT?!_" Her voice rose an octave. "But…how?"

Luke stepped out of the kitchen. Lorelai had sunk down on the couch, her face white with shock. "When?" she asked, and he could see her eyes fill with tears.

Luke's stomach felt full of air. He took a deep breath and tried to adjust to this. It was unexpected; that was the worst kind of death. And Lorelai had just said the day before that Emily hadn't known her favorite color. There was still much unfinished business. Lorelai was going to be in serious pain for a long time. Luke could close down the diner if necessary while he helped her with the funeral arrangements. His mouth felt dry. He felt completely helpless. There was his girlfriend, the woman he loved, feeling the same pain he'd had to feel twice—and he knew there was nothing he could do to assuage it.

He moved closer until he was sitting next to her on the couch. She said, her voice wavering, "Thank you for calling…bye," and hung up. Immediately, she began to sob. Wordlessly, Luke wrapped his arms around her as her tears fell on his shirt.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Lorelai stiffened, and seemed to realize something. She raised her head and looked Luke in the face. But he was completely unprepared for the next words to leave her mouth.

"It's not my mother," she sobbed.

Luke started. He tried to adjust his thinking. But if it wasn't Emily, then who—?

He was even more unprepared for Lorelai's next statement:

"It's Mia."

To be continued…

**Author's Notes: **This chapter, incidentally, is what started the idea for the entire story. I had this scene in mind where Emily looked around Luke's apartment and saw how simply he lived. Everything else came later.

And the turbine incident? 100 true. A few years ago, a turbine really did come down my street, right by my house, and people really did react much like the Stars Hollow residents did. People set up lawn chairs, took pictures, and at the pizza place up the street there really was a turbine party. And my town is much bigger than Stars Hollow, so I just imagined how insane the whole thing would be if it happened there.


	9. Chapter 9: Lorelai

Notes: Yes, I realize I haven't updated in more than a year. In fact, I have not read or written any fanfic at all in more than a year. I apologize. I've been busy writing for school, being a senior in college, etc. Now that I'm a struggling college grad, I have a little more time to write fanfic, and I hate not to finish things I start. So, I will soon be posting the last four chapters of "On Life and Stuff" soon. Keep in mind that I began this story right after "But Not As Cute As Pushkin," so current happenings on the show have nothing to do with this story.

Chapter 9

Mia Anderson was dead. She'd had a stroke, very suddenly. Although she'd been living in Santa Barbara for years, her will stated that she wanted to be buried in Stars Hollow. Three days after Lorelai received that phone call, she stood, all cried out, staring at the hole in the ground in which Mia's coffin would be lowered. On one side of her was Luke, holding her hand. On the other side of her was Emily.

Lorelai and Luke had held each other silently for what seemed like forever after Lorelai got that phone call. It seemed like a punishment for having gone too long without giving Mia a thought. Mia, the woman who had been a mother to Lorelai at a time when her relationship with Emily was worse than ever. Without her, Lorelai wouldn't have the Dragonfly, or the house she lived in, or anything. Without Mia, she would have had a completely different life.

Luke, too, had looked at Mia as a second mother. She'd been close friends with his own mother, who had died when he was ten, and in many ways she was his last link to his mom.

Lorelai and Luke said very little to each other after they got the news. Each knew what the other was thinking, so there was no need.

"I feel like this is some kind of punishment," Lorelai said finally, a couple of days later after they'd found out about the funeral arrangements. "Like I went too long without thinking of Mia, this woman I owe so much to, and now she's gone." She looked at Luke. "You know? It's irrational, but it somehow feels true. Or that it's a warning. Like, don't stop thinking about your mother, or you'll turn around and she'll be gone."

Just then Lorelai's cell phone rang, and she glanced at it. "Speak of the devil," she said, and answered it. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Lorelai. I just wanted to make sure, are you and Rory coming for dinner on Friday?"

Friday night dinner was the last thing on Lorelai's mind at the moment. "Uh…yeah, Mom."

"I just wanted to make sure, because you may need to find an alternate route. They're doing all sorts of ridiculous construction on our street to put in new sewers. We've never had any problems with our sewers at all. It's completely unnecessary. But I hear MapQuest is wonderful for directions."

"Okay," Lorelai murmured."

"What's wrong, Lorelai? You sound upset."

There was a time when Lorelai could never have counted on her mother to pick up on her inflections, but now she wasn't surprised at all.

"Um…I'm fine, it's just…tomorrow I have a funeral to go to."

"A funeral? Whose?"

"It's, um…Mia." A long pause. "You know, she was the owner of the Independence Inn."

"I remember who Mia is." There was a tone in Emily's voice that Lorelai couldn't quite identify.

"Yeah. So…Luke and I are going there tomorrow. He was close to her to—he knew her well when he was growing up."

Emily was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, "I'd like to come."

At first Lorelai wasn't sure she'd heard right. "Excuse me?"

"I'd like to come to Mia's funeral."

"But…" Lorelai struggled for words. "You didn't even know Mia."

"I talked to her once."

Lorelai started. "You did?"

"I stopped by the inn once when she was visiting." The end of Emily's sentence seemed very abrupt, as if she'd wanted to say more and had then stopped herself. "The funeral's in Stars Hollow?"

"Uh…yes," said Lorelai uncomfortably. "At 11."

"I'll see you there, then," said Emily.

And now here they stood, in the cemetery. The ceremony had been nice, noticeably devoid of any sort of Stars Hollow funeral quirkiness. No one had dropped the coffin, no microphones had cut out, no one had said anything inappropriate. Even Taylor had seemed subdued. Lorelai was grateful for that. Mia deserved a respectful funeral. But everyone in town who had known Mia had come, which made Lorelai happy.

As everyone started to leave the cemetery, Lorelai's eyes started to tear up again, and Emily reached for her hand.

"Mom?" Lorelai said softly. "When you said you talked to Mia once…what did you talk about?"

Emily was quiet for a long time before she answered. "She told me she'd expected me to come eventually. And she said that when you came to her, she thought that if you'd been her daughter, she would have wanted someone to take you in. I told her that I would have wanted you to find someone who would send you home. I told her not to mention it to you, and I see she kept her word." Emily paused. "But then I asked her to send me pictures, and she did. I looked at all these pictures of you and Rory with Mia, and…you looked so happy." Emily swallowed hard. "You never looked that happy in pictures with me."

Lorelai stared at her, stunned. So that was why Emily had wanted to come.

"Mom," she said, "you do realize that if Mia had been my mother, I would have found a way to rebel against her, don't you?"

Emily looked at her.

"Really," she said. "Mia was what I needed at that point in my life. I know there will be points in Rory's life when she'll turn to someone other than me. I don't like it, but I know it will happen."

Emily said nothing, and they kept on walking. When they reached their cars, Emily turned to Lorelai and finally spoke.

"Let's get something to eat," she said.

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10: Rory

Disclaimers in first chapter

Chapter 10

"Not under, but…" Rory began.

"Over!" said Marty, and Rory handed him the beeping Catchphrase word generator. Marty hit a button, then stared blankly at the screen. "Uh…it's something you use to clean the floor."

"Broom!" said Rory.

"Something you use to cl—"

"Mop!"

"Something you use to clean…the stuff that gets around the house."

"Uh…dustpan? Or…"

It stopped beeping and Marty looked at her defeatedly. "Dust _mop_," he said. "You get 'over' and I get 'dust mop?'"

It was a quiet Saturday night, and the two of them had spent it playing Catchphrase by themselves. Rory was marveling at how much she enjoyed Marty's company. Many of her friends were out at parties, but Rory couldn't think of anywhere she'd rather be than right there.

Rory sighed.

"What's wrong?" Marty asked.

"There's just been a lot of stuff going on lately," she said. "You know I told you my mom's old boss who gave her her start in the hotel industry—she just passed away. And my grandmother gets her test results tomorrow. Finds out whether the chemo worked or not."

Marty nodded. "The waiting is the toughest part," he said. "My dad—I mean the dad who raised me, who's really my uncle—had a cancer scare a few years ago. He had this growth on his thigh that the doctors were 99 percent sure was cancerous. My mom couldn't even eat while she was waiting to hear. But my dad just kept saying, 'One percent. Just keep thinking one percent.' And he wrote it on the back of a grocery list and stuck it on a kitchen cabinet." Marty smiled. "Then the test results came back negative. We've kept the 1 percent on the cabinet ever since."

"Wow," said Rory softly. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth.

"The nicest thing, though," Marty continued, "was the way everyone in town tried to help him. Help with meals, drive me and my brother places. We know about everyone in town."

Rory smiled. "That's so nice," she said. "It sounds a lot like my town."

"I can show you pictures," Marty said. He grabbed a photo album off the shelf and opened it. "It's this small town in Maine, by the ocean."

Rory looked at a picture of Marty and his family sitting on a bench on a street lined with shops.

"It kind of looks like Stars Hollow," said Rory. "Only more ocean-y."

Marty flipped a page and came to a picture of streets lined with booths. "That's the Fourth of July celebration," he said. He pointed to a harried-looking man waving his hands around. "That's Barry Morton. He runs everything in town, and he is _anal_ about making sure everything is exactly the way he wants it. If the banner isn't centered exactly, if invitations are yellow instead of blue, believe me, we'll hear about it."

Rory laughed, thinking of Taylor.

Marty flipped another page. "Me and my brother and my dad in my dad's fishing boat," he said, pointing to another picture. "My dad's been a fisherman for ages. It doesn't pay well, but he loves it. I don't think he would do anything else."

Rory smiled. "I think that's what everyone wants," she said. "To just do what they love and know for sure that this is the life they're happiest in."

"Well," said Marty, "I think he could have done without the whole wife-cheating-on-him-with-his-brother thing, but other than that, I think you're right."

He closed the photo album and sat down next to Rory. She smiled. "We should do this more often," she said.

"Do what?"

"Hang out…just the two of us."

Marty looked her in the eyes. "I think so, too," he said.

"We could do that Marx brothers marathon. Order some pizza."

"Watch DVDs of old shows."

"Make fun of the dialogue and make up our own."

"Yes." As the conversation continued, the two of them had been moving closer and closer to each other. "And we could…"

Their lips came together, and Rory's heart began to flutter.

She hadn't intended this for tonight. It wasn't part of the plan. Marty was her friend. He was supposed to be her platonic guy-friend, the one she could talk to without any sexual tension getting in the way.

But Lorelai had been supposed to graduate high school, go to Harvard, marry Christopher or someone like him, and have a gorgeous house and 2.2 kids. And Rory was sure that her mother would agree that what actually did happen could feel much more right than what was supposed to happen.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Rory woke up the next day with a smile on her face. It was scary and uncertain, but she could tell that the kiss with Marty last night was going somewhere. No matter how many times she tried to tell herself that it might not work out, she couldn't shake the feeling that the kiss was the start of what was going to be a great relationship.

Her cell phone rang, and Rory rolled over and picked it up off her night table. Still thinking of Marty, she was expecting to see his name on the caller ID.

But it wasn't Marty. It was her mother.

Rory's heart jumped. How could she have forgotten? The night with Marty had distracted her from Emily's appointment today. The doctor's visit today had told Emily whether or not her chemo had worked.

Rory let the phone ring for another five seconds, then answered it, scared to death of what she'd find out. "Hello?"

To be continued…


	11. Chapter 11: Richard

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter 11

Richard remembered the blue dress.

The dress Emily had been wearing when he first met her. He'd been engaged to Pennilyn Lott when he'd seen her walk into the room that day at Yale. It wasn't just her beauty—she had this presence about her, a toughness, an edge. Before he said a word to her, he could tell she was nothing like Linny, who was quiet and had few opinions on any subject. And once he started a conversation with her, he found that he was right. Emily could _talk_. She was funny and opinionated and interesting.

In the time they'd spent apart, he'd missed that. And as they headed down the hall to see Emily's doctor, Richard mused that the silence during that time had been awful. It was true that while Emily could talk, she could also yell, and nag, and bicker. But now, as Richard faced the possibility that his wife might die, he couldn't remember a single one of those arguments. He could only think of what he loved.

It was strange that they were putting so much weight on this one moment. If the chemo hadn't been successful, it didn't necessarily mean that there weren't still other options. And if Emily was now cancer-free, there was no guarantee that the cancer wouldn't return someday.

They sat down in the doctors' chairs, and Richard reached over and took his wife's hand.

She was so beautiful. She was sixty-one now, and even with the wig, and the lines that had formed upon her face, she looked even more beautiful than she had when they'd met in college. Back then, he'd only guessed how wonderful she was. Now, he had forty years of marriage to prove it.

Richard would forever be grateful to the doctor for not keeping them worrying for too long. When he walked into the office, he had a smile on his face.

"Good news, Mrs. Gilmore," he said. "Your latest CAT scan came out clean. You are now officially in remission."

It took them both a second to react. Then, almost in unison, they let out disbelieving breaths of relief. Emily regained her power of speech first.

After all this, she could still talk.

"Oh, my," she gasped. "Oh, my…"

She turned to Richard and threw her arms around him. Richard held her tight as the relief set in.

"You're still not completely out of the woods," the doctor warned. "Relapses are common, and you'll need to come in for regular check-ups every month."

"Thank you, doctor," Emily murmured. Her head drifted up until she met Richard's eyes.

"I love you, Richard," she whispered.

He held her tighter, feeling tears of relief spring to his eyes. "I love you, Emily."

He didn't know what the future would hold. Maybe she was completely cured, or maybe her cancer would someday return.

But she was here, now, in his arms, and that was what mattered.

After they'd called Lorelai and Rory and shared the good news with then, Richard leaned over and whispered in his wife's ear, "Emily?"

"What, Richard?"

"I know I said you could go first," he said, "but…please don't."

To be continued…


	12. Chapter 12: Emily

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter 12

"So where to first?" Lorelai asked.

It had been a month since Emily had gone into remission, and her hair had grown back in to the point where she no longer needed a wig. She and Lorelai were finally back at the mall, doing the shopping trip they hadn't gotten around to before. They were standing in the middle of the mall, looking at the map. Emily scanned it until she found the dot that read "You Are Here." The words seemed to jump out at her, and she smiled.

In the last month, she'd stopped spending so much time with the women from the country club and the DAR. She'd spent more time in Stars Hollow and at Yale, talking to Lorelai and Rory. Luke was beginning to be more comfortable around her, even joking with her now and then. And she'd met Rory's new boyfriend Marty, a quiet young man whom she liked very much. In a different time, she might have been disappointed that Rory wasn't dating someone wealthier, but Rory seemed so happy that it didn't seem to matter.

And Richard. It amazed her that she could ever have thought of leaving him. They were together now every night, talking about whatever was on their minds. Richard had told her that one of the things he loved about her was her ability to talk. And she was loving the time they'd been spending talking together.

Emily studied the map.

"I think it might be nice to just browse," she said. "We can walk around, do a bit of window-shopping. I left my credit cards at home."

Lorelai groaned. "Rory and I tried the window-shopping thing once. We discovered it was torture."

"Oh, give it a second chance," Emily said lightly. "I think it could be fun."

At the moment, window-shopping sounded more appealing than anything. She didn't need to take anything home with her. She didn't even know if this remission would last. But as long as it did, she needed to go on living her life.

She'd leave the stuff there in the store, where it belonged.

The End

I'm sorry for the long delays between updates, but I hope you liked this story. Not another character death—I've done that before and didn't want to go there again. Feedback is greatly appreciated.


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